The End of the War
by Katiesmom07
Summary: Set just after Amber's death where House deals with losing his best friend. Eventually will lead to reuniting/romance/SLASH. Rated T for now, but probably will change to M.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I still own nothing…(sigh)

Author's Notes: So, I have not written in quite some time. I also haven't read any fics in quite some time. So I'm not even sure if anyone still reads the types of stories I write, but I'm gonna write one anyway! Lol. At any rate, I miss a few things; writing, Hilson, GSR and reviews!

This is set just after Amber's death, but then goes my own way. I know…way back, but it's when I really liked both characters a lot.

1

He sat in his office, bouncing a ball off the wall, his cane leaning on the desk next to him not even caring about his current patient. Okay, he never truly cared about his patient, but this time he didn't even care about the puzzle. The pang of the bounce which normally would have been soothing to him, or at least made his mind function the way he wanted, was merely making the pounding in his head more abundant.

With an abrupt stop, he dropped the ball and pulled out his latest Vicodin bottle, popping one in his mouth. He swirled his chair toward the balcony door, momentarily contemplating venturing out, but stopped before he even started, knowing it would only cause more pain. Not pain, anger. Or hurt maybe. He wasn't really sure.

His thoughts were interrupted by Thirteen entering his office and asking some random question about their patient. Without even processing her question, he snapped back, "Have I not taught you enough to be able to treat _one patient _without direction from _me_?"

With her arms crossed over her chest, "I thought you'd actually want to know the status of your patient."

"Well you thought wrong. Maybe you should focus your 'thoughts' on the patient instead of me. Maybe then you'd get them right!"

She pursed her lips, barely shaken by his sarcasm and raised voice. "You know, just because Wilson isn't here for you to treat like crap, you don't have to sulk and treat us worse!"

With that, she turned to leave. He turned back toward the balcony, giving thought to what she'd said. She was right of course. He had treated Wilson like crap. But Wilson had done the same to him!

Who was he kidding? Wilson had never treated him poorly, until now. His best friend was gone, never to return. Wilson had left, emphatically telling House how much he hated him and that he never wanted to see him again.

Wilson had finally won the war, the war that House had started and continued to build through the years. It had been four weeks since he'd seen his friend, four weeks of drunkenness, pill-popping, insomnia and even less caring about work than normal.

Everywhere he turned in the hospital that he had worked in with his best friend for years held a memory. He wasn't sure if he hated Wilson more for leaving, or for leaving so many memories behind. He actually wasn't sure if he hated him at all.

One thing he was sure he hated though, was being there…alone. It was a feeling that scared him more than any other. He had always prided himself on liking being alone. But in looking back he realized that he really wasn't alone because he always had Wilson. And Wilson was enough.

He stood and grabbing his cane walked toward the elevator, completely ignoring Foreman as he tried to catch up to him in the hall. As quickly as his leg would allow, he made it to Cuddy's office. Without knocking he entered saying, "I need some time off."

She never raised her eyes from the paperwork she was working on. "No."

"Aren't you even gonna ask why?"

Still working, "Fine. Why?"

Smugly, "I don't have to tell you that."

"Then the answer is still no."

"Fine, then I quit."

He turned to leave but was stopped, "Wait. What is this about, House?"

A slight smile came across his lips, still finding just a little joy in annoying his boss. He turned, the smile disappearing. "I told you, I need some time off. If you won't grant it, I'll quit."

"Are you dying?"

"Every day."

She rolled her eyes at his petty game, "Any quicker than yesterday?"

Both hands were perched on his cane in front of him, still feeling like he had the upper hand. "Nope."

"Emergency time off must have a reason House. I approve vacation time based on first come and I do it so that we're not short too many doctors at once. You know that we are already down a department head and we are maxed out on vacation time right now. So give me a good reason, or the answer is no."

He wasn't sure if the pang in his chest at the exact moment Cuddy mentioned Wilson's vacancy was a coincidence or not, but he told himself it was. In that moment, he weakened. "I just need time off. I don't want to be here."

"Ha! You never want to be here, House! This is nothing new. And if this is about Wilson, you better get over it. Apparently you've hurt him for the last time." She watched as she saw him shrink just a little before her, knowing she had hit a nerve. For a moment she felt sorry for him, only for it to pass as she wondered what kind of scheme he'd pull next. With a brilliant thought she asked, "How many clinic hours do you owe me?"

His sarcasm was evident, "I'm all caught up, haven't you heard?"

"Try near a hundred! I'll tell you what, you get caught up and then, and only then, can you have your time off."

His eyes met hers for only a second before he curtly nodded and headed out. She was proud of herself as she watched him hobble away. She hadn't given in to him, and she knew there was no way that he would actually do clinic hours. Even if he did a few, he'd never catch up. With a smile, she went back to her paperwork.

In the next few days, she saw House's scribble on quite a few charts from the clinic and very few from other doctors. Knowing he was up to something, she made her way to the clinic, ready to search for him inside some exam room, finding him signing random charts while watching his latest Soap.

With purpose to her step, she walked up to the receptionist. "Where is Dr. House?"

The young girl looked quickly down at the paperwork in front of her, "He's in exam room 2 with a patient."

Slightly stunned, "A patient? How long has he been here?"

"Today? I'm not sure, he started before my shift. But I can find out."

Now she was annoyed. "What do you mean 'today'?"

"Well, he's been here every day for the past few days. Really long hours too."

With a huff, she marched off to the room House was in. She nearly collided with him as he walked out just as she reached for the door. "Well, if it isn't Dr. Cuddy. Boy, you don't spend a lot of time in the clinic do you? You really should devote more of your time here. People need you!"

She didn't let the sarcasm shake her. "How many hours have you put in this week?"

"When I leave here in two hours, it will be one hundred. At that time, I will be leaving to take some time off that I was granted by you."

She was taken aback. "Come to my office." He followed as she tried to control her saunter and have more of an angry walk, but he enjoyed the view either way. They no sooner entered the office when she turned to him asking, "What is this about, House?"

"Pretty sure we've had this conversation. You ask, I don't tell. I threaten to quit, you offer me a deal, I accept and I've almost fulfilled my end. Does that bring you up to speed?"

She pointed a finger at him, as if trying to make her point stick. "You don't just do one hundred clinic hours unless you have a good reason."

His voice rose slightly. "Right. I did 98 so far. And I did it because I want the damn time off!"

Her next word came out louder than she intended, triggering his anger. "Why?"

"Because I need to get away from here! Everywhere I turn I see him! I screwed up! It's my fault! I get it! Now he's gone! Just let me go!"

She was shocked. House was actually hurt. He was using anger to hide his pain. She'd known him for plenty of years, but had rarely seen him like this. With a slight nod, "Go. Let me know when you'll be back."

His face was still hard, but his eyes softened just a bit, giving all the thanks he had in him. Without another thought he quickly left the hospital.


	2. Chapter 2

2

House looked around the dingy motel room, its emptiness only reminding him how pathetic he was. He had in fact gone home the day he left the hospital, only to realize after two days that he had just as many memories of Wilson in his apartment as he did at work. With a small packed bag, he had headed to a local motel, trying to find a place with no memories of his best friend. He had even ordered a couple of hookers to try and distract his mind, but had sent both away without even a slight physical response to their presence.

He heard his cell phone buzz again from across the room, but never bothered to get it, figuring it was just Cuddy calling him for the millionth time to check up on him. Popping another Vicodin, he rolled over slightly, trying to will himself to sleep to chase some of his agony away.

How long he had slept, he didn't know, but he was woken by a pounding at his door. Already angry at the person on the other side, he got out of bed to hobble to the door and flung it open. He started to yell, "What the hell do…" He stopped, stunned to see the man who was in front of him. He wondered briefly whether he'd overdosed on pain meds and was hallucinating. There was a long silence before he dared speak. "Wilson?"

Obviously annoyed, "Yes, House. Who else?"

Thinking he might be dreaming, "Why are you here?"

His reply was full of anger. "Why? How about because Cuddy has been trying to call you for five days and you won't answer your damn phone? How about because she asked dozens of people to look for you or if they'd seen you and no one had or cared to look? How about because you have no friends? How about because I'm the only person that even knows how to find you?"

The words hurt, but he knew they were true. "So why did you come?"

"I came for Cuddy, _not_ for you." With that, he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit speed dial. House just stood and stared listening to the one side of the conversation. "Hey, it's me. Yeah, I found him. He's alive and at a dumpy motel. I'll have him call you. Yeah. Bye." House's head hung. "Call Cuddy and get back to work."

"I'm not going back."

"Whatever House, then call her and tell her that. I don't really care."

House remained silent for a few moments, waiting for Wilson to walk away. When he didn't, "How did you find me anyway?"

With his arms crossed over his chest, "Wasn't hard since you used _my_ credit card to check into the damn motel."

House's eyes shot up to meet his friend's. He hadn't even realized what he'd done out of pure habit. He swallowed hard, "Sorry. I'll fix it. I didn't mean it."

Wilson ignored him, not even bothering to listen to the fake apology, and pushed past him, entering the filthy room. "And here are all the Chinese takeout meals and pizza I've paid for too." He flung his arms out. "Christ House! I told you to stay out of my life! Did it not occur to you to stop using my credit card?"

Without a word, House walked to the table, picked up his wallet and dug out the credit card and as much cash as he had. He handed it to Wilson, shoved the wallet in his pocket and hobbled out of the room, leaving Wilson stunned. He'd never seen House like this. With Stacey, he was quiet, hiding his anger with sarcasm and work. With his leg, he was just plain angry all of the time, trying to hide his pain. He'd never actually seen House hurt.

With a huff, he walked out of the room, still sheltered by the small roof only to see House walking across the parking lot in the pouring rain. He wanted to just get in his car and leave. He didn't care about the man who had hurt him so many times. He wanted to just move on with his life and leave House in his past.

But even as he thought all of those things, he knew they were all lies. The past few weeks without House had given him plenty of time to think. He had mourned Amber, and come to a lot of conclusions. One of those conclusions was that he missed his best friend.

He shook his head as he headed out into the rain, calling after his friend. "House, wait! House!"

House never slowed as he heard his name called, he just kept going, his clothes getting more soaked by the minute. When Wilson finally caught up to him, he felt his arm being jerked until they were face to face. He was still angry. "What do you want now? I gave you back your card! I said I was sorry! I gave you all the cash I have!" He snatched his wallet from his pocket, pulled out his ATM card and threw it at him. "There! Take it all! I don't give a damn!"

Wilson stooped to pick up the card before the water whisked it away and stood to face House once again. He pressed the card against House's chest saying, "I didn't chase after you for your money."

House took the card, only to watch Wilson turn and walk away from him yet again. He didn't bother to chase him or call out to him, knowing neither would do any good. After he watched the brake lights disappear down the road, he ambled back towards his room, to his still open door. Once closed, he banged both his head and fist on the back. Drenched, he undressed quickly, took a hot shower, popped two Vicodin and went back to sleep.

It had been two days since Wilson had shown up at his motel door. Seeing him had only made things worse and now he had a memory of Wilson attached to the damn room he'd used as his escape. He'd thought about just changing rooms, but knew they would all look the same and it wouldn't help so he opted for checking out.

Back in his apartment, he struggled much as he had before. Cuddy had threatened to fire him if he didn't return to work soon and he told her it was fine. He really didn't care. Instead of every night getting easier, it just got harder and his hope for relief of his agony never came.

At nearly ten o'clock at night, a familiar knock came to his door. It was a knock that used to comfort him but now he wondered whether it would just bring more pain. Cautiously, he opened his door to find Wilson on the other side just as he suspected. He held the door open without saying a word.

"I went to the motel. They said you had checked out."

House merely nodded. The silence lingered before House finally spoke. "At the motel, you said you didn't chase after me for my money. Why did you chase after me?"

Wilson shuffled his feet, struggling with the truth. He settled for middle ground. "I'm not really sure."

"When you figure it out, lemme know." With that, House slammed the door, determined not to have to watch Wilson walk away from him again. He wanted Wilson to just storm in, not leave. He wanted him to stay. But he knew that he had to apologize for that to happen. Apologizing was not his strong point.

Days passed since that night. In them, leave of absence paperwork had come in the mail for him to fill out so that he didn't lose his job. He didn't bother, but instead tossed them on the table. He had been sleeping better, but he wasn't sure if it was from healing or the excessive amount of alcohol and Vicodin.

A knock came again to his door. The same knock as before. With a little more confidence than the last time, he opened it. Wilson's greeting was simple and straight to the point. "I figured it out." House flashed a raised eyebrow look, pushing him to continue. Wilson's nervousness was evident not only in his sunken shoulders, but also the shake of his voice. "I miss you."

House felt his heart skip. He moved back into the apartment and toward the couch, leaving the door open for Wilson to follow. Just as many times before, the two men sat in his living room, but this time in an uncomfortable silence.

When Wilson finally spoke, House nearly jumped. "You hurt me."

House's response was soft. "I know. I'm sorry." Wilson nodded his head, seemingly accepting his apology. "But you hurt me too." He knew he had no right to even say it, but he did. Wilson's head fell to his hands and immediately House felt remorse for hurting him once again.

House was sure he saw a tear in his friend's eye as he raised his head. "Tell me why you went to that motel room."

Warnings went off in his brain. He knew the truth, but wasn't sure if he should share it, or even if he could. His mind raced as he tried to decide between the truth and a lie. With a heaviness on his chest, he started with the truth. "To run from you."

"What do you mean? I wasn't even here."

House rubbed his eyes, fighting his emotions, hating where this was heading. "No!" He stood to get a beer, bringing back one for both of them. After a long pull from his, he began again. "I left work because everything reminded me of you. I came home to get away from the memories only to realize that…this place…has just as many memories of you. So I ran."

Wilson gulped his beer, for both thirst and courage. "Did it work?"

His anger rose quickly and he flashed a glare in Wilson's direction. "No! Because the damn memories of you are in my head! No matter where I go, there you are!"

Wilson managed to keep his voice in check. "Do you want me to leave?"

House threw his beer across the room, the amber liquid splattering and the glass shattering. "No! I want you to stay!" He took a deep breath, calming his temper and begging his heart rate to slow. His last statement was barely above a whisper. "I want the hurting to stop." Without another word, House limped to his bedroom and fell into bed. He had shown all he could for one night. Sleep overtook him quickly, mentally exhausted from his internal war.

At some point during his sleep, he was sure he heard the door to his apartment open and close. Thankful that he didn't have to watch Wilson leave, he hobbled out of bed and into the living room. To his surprise, his apartment was clean. The broken beer bottle had been picked up, dishes were done and the trash was taken care of. He wondered how long Wilson had stayed, and then silently scolded himself for his anger the previous night.

Feeling defeated, he opted for a shower. The hot water soothed his muscles, but didn't help his feelings. House had always felt pain. Physical pain was something he'd learned to deal with over the years. He used things to cover it…Vicodin, sarcasm, anger. But this emotional turmoil was seemingly more than he could mask even from himself.

Once out of the shower, he heard noise in his kitchen. Clad only in faded jeans, he walked out to find Wilson cooking breakfast. "I thought you left."

Wilson turned then from the stove. "You told me to stay." House gave a curt nod before turning toward his bedroom to continue getting dressed.

Once they sat down to breakfast, Wilson asked, "What can I do? You know…to make the hurt go away?"

House thought as he chewed, knowing that if he wanted Wilson back in his life they had to get through this stage. He decided to keep it simple. "Stay."

"I did. I mean from now on."

House pinched the bridge of his nose. "No. I mean stay…here."

"You mean like move in? Permanently?"

House took a deep breath before responding. "Yes."

Wilson was shocked. Of all the things he'd expected, he never thought House would ask this. Sure, they had shared living quarters before, but never completely willingly on House's part. Through divorces and breakups and whatever else came along, they had ended up on each other's sofa plenty of times. But in all his years he'd never heard House ask for them to live together, to share personal space, in any sort of permanency.

"Why?"

House's fist slammed to the table. "You asked a question. I answered. You don't get to question my answer!"

With a squeak in his voice that he wished hadn't come, "You're asking me to change my life. I think I have a right to question that."

"I'm not asking you to change your life. I'm asking you to move out of your hotel room into an apartment. I thought maybe you'd like more to do than sit on that stupid chair and stare out a window that you clean nearly every night just to have a clear view."

There was a slight moment of silence as their eyes met, Wilson's full of shock. "H-how did you know that I'm living in a hotel room?"

House's head hung, caught in his own admission. He wasn't used to not being able to control his own words. Wilson made him weak, and it worried him that it only bothered him slightly. "I went by your apartment. Someone else lived there…wasn't hard to find you."

Wilson pointed his finger across the table. "You were watching me. How many times did you sit outside my room?" When House didn't answer, "You missed me."

House stood abruptly and turned for the door, cane in hand. Wilson stood in protest, "House, where are you going?"

He paused at the door, but only briefly. His voice was soft, and Wilson was sure he heard agony in his words. "I asked you to stay because I don't know how to live without you." With that, he left the apartment without looking back.

Wilson knew if he wanted to he could catch up to him in no time and stop him from leaving. But that wouldn't be what his friend wanted. House had just admitted more feeling to him in the past twenty minutes than he had in the past twenty years.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: Thanks for all the reviews! Keep them coming!

3

When he had returned to his apartment, he'd found it empty. He wasn't shocked when he found Wilson had left, but he _was_ shocked at how much it hurt him. Wilson had a power over him no other human being ever had.

He had been telling the truth when he told Wilson that he didn't know how to live without him. Most times, when put in an uncomfortable position, he would have hidden his true feelings with lies. But this time he'd chosen truth. Truth was not an option he chose much in life. Truth hurt. But this time, the truth would be the only thing that got his best friend back. That truth scared him.

Days had passed and he had long since turned his cell phone off, tired of the endless calls to check up on him. The knock he longed for never came to his door. He hadn't left his apartment, finding no need until today. He had run out of alcohol…and food. After a shower he headed out his door into the world that he was determined was full of people who would hurt him, stopping only once at his mail box.

He flipped through the envelopes, stopping at the one with 'PPTH' in the upper left-hand corner. He assumed it was his last check and discharge papers and wasn't even sure if he cared. Opening it only for the money, he was shocked at the paperwork he found. Inside the envelope were not his discharge papers, but the acceptance letter for the Leave of Absence paperwork that he had mailed in…except, he hadn't mailed the paperwork back.

With a new destination in mind, House got on his bike, determined to make something change. He wasn't sure what he would, or even could, change but he was going to do something.

He rapped his cane on the hotel door that he knew led to his best friend's current living quarters, hoping that Wilson would answer.

Only a few moments went by before Wilson opened the door, looking as if he just climbed out of bed. "It's almost midnight House. What do you want?"

Almost startled, he looked to the sky for confirmation. His life had been so full of nothing that he hadn't even realized he'd left his apartment in the middle of the night. He took a deep breath before he spoke, determined to say what he had come to say. "I have one question." He held up one finger as if to emphasize his statement. "Why do you always take care of me no matter how much I hurt you?"

Still waking up, rubbing his eyes, he asked, "What are you talking about, House?"

He felt himself start to get frustrated, but pushed the feeling away. Instead, he replied, "Never mind. I came to say thank you. I don't know how, but I…I'm going to try and fix this…fix me." He looked at Wilson then, feeling terrified. "Fix us." Their eyes met only briefly before House turned to leave as quickly as he'd come, leaving Wilson stunned in silence.

House had stopped only briefly for beer and snacks before returning to his apartment. All he could see was the look in Wilson's eyes just before they'd parted. It was the first time he'd bothered to recognize the hurt. What pained him was that he knew it was hurt he'd created, hurt that he didn't know if he could ever gain Wilson's forgiveness for.

He was into his second beer when the knock came to his door after 1am. He opened it quickly to find Wilson with red eyes, seemingly just having stopped crying. He uttered one word. "How?"

His mind raced challenging the fear with relief. Being here meant Wilson was willing to give him a chance, but what he'd have to do scared the hell out of him. He wasn't sure if Wilson would even come in if he didn't answer and he wasn't willing to chance it. But he didn't have a straight answer to give. There was only one thing he knew. "Whatever it takes, I'll do it."

Without moving, the next question came. "Why?"

This question terrified even more than the first, but he knew he'd already answered this once and that Wilson just needed to hear it again. With his eyes at his feet, "I told you, because I don't know how to live without you."

He wasn't ready for the next question. "Why?"

House's eyes shot up to meet his friend's, finding challenge behind the pain. He gulped hard, hoping that his answer would be enough. "I don't know. That's what I want to find out."

Wilson turned and walked away, leaving House feeling defeated. He stood, staring at the empty space his friend had just been standing in, feeling lost. No matter how hard he pushed, or how much he opened up, he was afraid his best would never be enough.

Minutes passed before he was shaken from his trance by the sound of footsteps coming toward him. He looked up to find Wilson walking toward him once again. Trying to hide his momentary joy, he remained silent. His eyes met Wilson's waiting for what he had to say, hoping it involved explaining the suitcase in his hand.

His voice was shaky, mixed with pain and fear. "I'm staying." He pointed a finger at House's chest. "You figure this out. You have two weeks. It gets fixed, or it gets ended. Forever."

House nodded, and stepped aside so that Wilson could enter. He dropped his suitcase and made a move for the couch, but House stopped him with his cane across his chest. With his chin, he motioned toward the bedroom. "Go to bed." Wilson raised an eyebrow. "You're exhausted. I'll be up all night thinking anyway. You take the bed. I'll be fine on the couch."

Wilson started to protest but then thought better of it, knowing that if he was going to let House do this, he had to let him do it his way. He shuffled to the bedroom, fell to the bed fully clothed and fell asleep within minutes.

House, on the other hand, was up most of the night, warring one feeling against the other, trying to figure out how he would give everything he had to the next two weeks. He was devious and could normally come up with a master plan in minutes. But this was different. This plan could contain no deceit, no lies. This plan would change his life, for better or for worse.

He didn't know when exhaustion had finally taken over him, but he had finally fallen asleep. The aroma of coffee brewing woke him. Finding Wilson in his kitchen fully dressed and ready for the day, he chuckled. Wilson was a morning person, no matter what the previous night held.

"Do you know that you have absolutely no food?"

Forcing back a sarcastic retort, "I'm sorry. How about coffee and after I shower I'll take you to breakfast and we can go grocery shopping?"

Wilson's brow furrowed and he held up a hand, "Wait. Did you just offer to buy me a meal?"

House blew out a breath, knowing this was only a start of how hard this would be. These two weeks would be filled with reminders of all the idiotic things he'd done and all the hurt he'd caused. But for Wilson, he would take every punch. "Yes. I figure I owe you at least 42 meals. That's 3 meals a day for two weeks. Put your wallet away, Wilson, these two weeks are on me."

Without even taking a cup of coffee, House limped to the bathroom for his shower. Wilson stood motionless in the kitchen wondering how House had managed to stun him before even having a cup of coffee first. He had mentally prepared himself for disaster for the next two weeks and thought now that he needed to prepare himself for something different.

House got out of the shower to find a hot cup of coffee sitting on the bathroom counter. He dressed quickly and headed to the kitchen, finding Wilson cleaning. Wilson looked up as he entered. "I would tell you not to clean, but I know that this is just who you are. So I'll just tell you that you don't have to, but I want you to do whatever you feel you would do…if this was your…if this was where you lived." Both men nodded in silent agreement. "Ready to go?"

They ate at a small diner for breakfast and headed to the grocery store just as House suggested. House sensed Wilson's discomfort as they entered the store and immediately tried to relieve it. "Choices. I suck at cooking, but I will cook for you if you want. You love cooking, but I won't ask you to cook for me. Either way, I pay."

House saw a slight smile come onto his friend's face. "I'll cook."

"Great. We need enough for three breakfasts, three lunches and two dinners. And of course alcohol is a must!"

As they started to walk, House pushing the cart, Wilson dared ask, "So are you planning on this only lasting three days or are we shopping every three days?"

"None of the above, but thanks for playing."

They ventured down aisles, Wilson filling the cart while House just watched. "So, are you going to tell me or not?"

Glad he had Wilson's interest, House smiled a half smile, and went with his gut. "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

Wilson chuckled, happy that House had found his sarcasm again. "Right, okay House, this is your game. I get it."

The cart stopped abruptly and Wilson looked toward his friend. "It's not a _game_."

Wilson was shocked by House's reaction. "I'm sorry, House. I was just kidding."

Their shopping finished in silence, neither knowing what to say next. The ride home was filled with thought for both men. Wilson tried to figure his friend out, knowing that he had changed, but not yet understanding exactly how. House was trying to balance his fear of losing Wilson again with his ability to do things the right way.

Once the groceries were put away, it was Wilson who spoke. "Can I say something?"

"You don't have to ask permission to speak."

"I know. That's not what I meant. It's just…well…I told you that I missed _you_. I just want you to know that I don't need you to be a different person. You don't have to pretend to be someone you're not. If we're going to make this work, you still have to be _you._"

House thought before he spoke. "What if, this _is_ who I am? What if I've been hiding from the real me?"

"Is it? Have you?"

This was a huge step for him. This was an admittance that he wouldn't be able to run from. Forever from this moment, if he changed, he would be told that he was running from his true feelings. But he didn't care. His eyes met Wilson's. "I think so."

Wilson tried not to stutter as he spoke. "How do you know?"

Slightly frustrated, "I don't know. I _think_ so."

With that he turned from the kitchen. Wilson followed him to the couch. He pushed House to answer questions, knowing that if he didn't, the two weeks would be pointless. "Why do you think so?"

With elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, House responded. "Because the only person I call my friend is you. The only person I miss when I'm lonely is you."

"That doesn't make you a different person than the arrogant, sarcastic ass of a friend that you were before."

The statement had stung, but the truth usually did hurt. To prove his point, he knew only two things. "The only regret I have in my life is hurting you. The only thing I'm afraid of in life is losing you."

Wilson couldn't stop the stutter, "Ar-are you…in l-love with me?"

House thought his nerves would push him to passing out. He felt dizziness overcome him and instantly squeezed his head to try to stop it. Everything was moving at warp speed and he couldn't keep up.

The silence for House was only an instant, but for Wilson felt like an eternity. He felt sweat on his brow as he waited for his friend's response. Of all of the things he had prepared himself for, this had not even come close to being on the list. His stomach flipped. The urge to race to the bathroom raged, but he forced his body to remain in control in his spot on the couch.

When House finally spoke, Wilson jumped. "I can't lose you over this."

Wilson thought for a split second to just drop the conversation. If House never replied, he'd never have to actually deal with the answer. But he knew that wouldn't be possible. "House, I need to know. Are you?"

It took time, but House finally raised his eye to meet Wilson's. He willed his voice not to shake, but failed. "I'm not sure. I've never felt this way about anyone."

Wilson didn't dare speak, but simply gave the slightest nod. House watched as he rose from the couch, bracing himself to watch him walk out of his life again. To his shock, his friend didn't walk toward the door, but toward the bedroom.

Stopping at the hallway, Wilson spoke without turning around. "I'm not leaving. I…I just need a little time to think."

House watched Wilson disappear into the bedroom, letting tears fall that he didn't even realize he'd been holding back. The truth that he had known had finally surfaced. His lies hurt Wilson, but so did his truths. He didn't know how to end the war. It was a puzzle he couldn't solve…yet.


	4. Chapter 4

4

He opened his eyes to find Wilson staring at him from the chair. With one eye still half closed, "How long have you been watching me sleep?"

Wilson completely ignored the question. "Two weeks. I'll stay…for two weeks."

Moving to an upright position, House asked, "And…then what?"

"I don't know yet."

"So…I'm just supposed to take the chance of falling in love with my best friend, having him for two weeks then just losing him because he doesn't even know if it's something that will work for him?"

The answer was simple. "Yes."

House ran a hand over his face. Wilson was asking him to risk. He took risks every day, with patients, his job and even other people's feelings. But he never risked his own feelings. He never risked being hurt himself. To figure this out, though, he was going to have to risk…himself.

He had choices. He could tell Wilson no and probably watch him walk out now, deny his feelings and just take the two weeks to get himself back to their old relationship, or he could risk his heart and figure out what his real feelings were. The only problem was that all three led to the possibility of losing his best friend again.

Since the previous day, he had used the truth as his standard, no matter how much it hurt. The truth was he had two weeks to figure out his true feelings. That also meant he had two weeks to convince Wilson that those feelings were something that would work for them. It was a puzzle; a puzzle he wanted to solve.

"Okay."

Wilson watched the struggle as House had made his decision. It was the same struggle he'd gone through to decide if he could even go through with this. He had been married three times, to women. He had loved all of them, yet all three marriages had failed. They had failed because none of them really knew him. House knew him better than anyone. Wilson had barely taken the time to get to know any of his ex-wives. He knew House better than anyone. In all of his previous relationships, there had been secrets. He and House had no secrets. Every relationship had failed because most of the time, he would have rather been with House, and a lot of the time he was. After every relationship had failed, he always went to House. The one constant person in his life was House. Without revealing it to his best friend, he wondered if he even understood his own feelings.

The silence was long, but necessary for the two men to process their thoughts. Wilson stood to go make them lunch, returning with two sandwiches and two beers. He took a seat next to House on the couch and waited for him to take his first bite before asking, "So, does this mean we're dating?"

House began to laugh. It was a chuckle at first, but then turned to a deep, rolling laughter. Wilson joined him, glad that the tension had broken. With tears brimming in both sets of eyes, House answered with a question, "Is that okay with you?"

Wilson looked at him then. He searched his eyes and found sincerity in the question. He spoke without thinking. "I'm not used to you caring about my feelings."

House never broke their gaze. "I know. I'm going to change that."

He didn't know what to say to respond to that, so he went back to the question. "Yes, I'm okay with that."

"I don't wanna screw this up, but I probably will a few times."

Wilson looked away and took a sip from his beer. "I know."

The rest of the day, they simply spent together. They played video games, watched television and neither spoke of their feelings toward each other. They had made an unspoken agreement to let everything just sink in.

At nearly eleven, Wilson yawned and stretched. "You must be exhausted. You haven't had a good night sleep in a few nights. Why don't you go to bed?"

"Are you offering your bed to me again? What are you going to do?"

"Yes, I am. I have some stuff to do on my computer."

Wilson stood and shoved his hand through his hair. House could hear the annoyance in his response. "So you're sending me to bed so you can watch porn."

Remaining calm, House stood and faced him, mere inches separated them. "I said I would probably screw up a couple times, but I didn't say I was a complete moron. I am not going to watch porn. I have 13 days to fix us. In those 13 days, I would like to have plans which might include booking things or buying tickets. That's what I'm planning on doing. If you'd like to stay up with me, you can, but I wanted to surprise you."

He was ashamed. "House, I'm sorry. I'm a jerk."

House smirked, "No you're not. You're just used to me being one. And for that I am the one that's sorry." Slowly, he reached his hand up and touched Wilson's cheek. Their eyes connected and he spoke in a whisper, "Go to bed, Jimmy. I'll see you in the morning."

The morning came with the scent of pancakes and bacon. House loved how Wilson got up and ready and never bothered waking him. It wasn't until breakfast was nearly ready that he woke.

After a stop in the bathroom, House joined Wilson in the kitchen and sat down at his prepared plate. After his first bite, "This is great! How'd you sleep last night?"

"Great. How late were you up? Did you get everything done?"

"Pretty late and…yep."

Wilson chuckled. "So, what are the plans for today then?"

He pointed with his fork across the table. "You are going to take me shopping."

"For?"

"A suit…or maybe two. And you'll need to get yours, wherever they might be."

His brow furrowed. "Mine are in storage and you don't where suits."

House shrugged. "I do now. We have tickets to see a play tonight and dinner reservations, both of which require a suit."

"So we have a date." It wasn't a question, but House nodded in agreement anyway. "Huh. No one has ever taken me out on a date before. What play are we seeing?"

"Phantom of the Opera."

Wilson's breath caught. "Phantom? How did you get tickets? They've been sold out for months!"

"I remember you said once how much you wanted to go. It wasn't easy, but I found some, balcony seats."

"I didn't even think you were listening when I told you that."

"I listen to more than you think." He finished his breakfast and got up. "I'm going to take a shower. We'll leave as soon as I'm ready."

The afternoon went by quickly and House only complained a couple of times at the amount of suit jackets Wilson made him try on. Eventually they had left with two suits, several dress shirts and a couple ties, all of which Wilson had chosen. A quick stop to pick up Wilson's things brought them back to the apartment to get ready.

At the theater, House had spent more time watching Wilson than he did the actors, shocked by his enthusiasm. A few times he'd seen tears come to his eyes and more than not, he was captivated by the stage. With dinner came comfortable conversation, Wilson jabbering on about the play and House listening nearly intently as he was watching the joy he had brought his friend.

Once home, they both flung their jackets over the chair and loosened their ties before settling on the couch with a couple beers to watch a random television show that House chose. At some point in the show, House moved his free hand and placed it on Wilson's thigh.

Wilson never moved, but couldn't focus on the television screen in front of him. It was the simplest touch, but the largest distraction for him. The hand on his cheek had been easy to recover from. It had only lasted a moment and he escaped alone to go to bed. But this touch was anything but brief and he had no escape.

"Are you going to say something or just stare at my hand on your thigh all night?"

A blush rose to his cheeks. "Sorry…it just takes some getting used to."

House removed his hand without argument. "All you had to do was say something."

The spot that had just been covered with a warm hand now felt ice cold. He instantly filled with regret. He swallowed hard before speaking. "I didn't say I wanted you to move your hand."

House looked at him. "Then what do you want?"

"I-I don't really know."

"It's late. Why don't you head to bed?"

"You take the bed tonight. You haven't had a good night's sleep in a while. I'll take the couch."

By the next afternoon, House informed Wilson that they would be going to a jazz bar that night for dinner with a live jazz band. Wilson knew this was something a little more up House's alley. The atmosphere was more casual, although they still wore slacks and dress shirts.

Dinner was pleasant and House enjoyed the dim lights, music and Wilson's reaction to it. At one point, the music slowed and couples got up to dance. He watched a spark in Wilson's eyes as he watched the dance floor. The music changed pace again and couples headed back to their seats. House ordered another round of drinks, making his a double scotch for courage.

Eventually the music slowed again. House took one last gulp of his drink and leaning across the table. "Do you want to dance?"

Wilson's eyes grew large. "Excuse me?"

House rolled his eyes. "Do you want to dance?" When he got no reply, he stood and stretched out his hand.

Wilson stood and took his hand, already feeling eyes on them. "You do know we're in public right?"

He was very matter-of-fact. "Yes."

Still shocked, "Are you drunk?"

"Nope, just a guy who would like to dance with his date." When Wilson made no move he continued. "People are already staring at us. Pretty sure actually dancing would be better than standing here looking like we're arguing."

Wilson's nod was miniscule. House led him to the dance floor, not caring about the eyes that were burning holes in them. Slowly, he pulled his date toward him and swayed back and forth. With his leg, a lot of dancing was out of the question, but this was within his range. Eventually he felt the tension start to loosen in his dance partner. He was just beginning to relax when the song came to an end.

They made it back to their seats and Wilson quickly reached for his glass of wine. House was concerned, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." Moments passed before he added, "It was actually…kind of nice."

With a half-smile, House turned his attention back to the music and waited for the next slow song. When it came, he looked across the table and asked, "Jimmy, will you dance with me?"

The walk to the dance floor was different this time. There was no tension and Wilson quickly entered House's arms. They swayed back and forth and to the older man's shock, the younger closed the distance between them, bodies pressed together, cheeks touching. House let his hand drift, hovering just above Wilson's waistband. Suddenly, the world around them did not matter. Lost in the music and his partner, he had found his answer. He loved his best friend.

Casual conversation was easy for the rest of the night, both having gained a new comfort level. When they returned to the apartment, both taking their usual place on the couch, Wilson sat closer than normal.

In the middle of the movie, Wilson spoke. "Play for me." House glanced to the side with a nod and stood to move to the piano. Wilson turned the television off and listened to the notes House formed on the keys with his fingers.

The song came to an end and Wilson stood. As he walked to the piano, "Play another song." Without hesitation, he began another song. He never faltered when he felt the hands fall upon his shoulders or the body brushing his back. He closed his eyes, letting his fingers find the notes on their own while he cherished the moment he was lost in.

As he brought the song to its end, he lowered his cheek to the hand on his shoulder, savoring one last moment. Each minute seemed so precious to him, not knowing where they were headed or if he would be able to repeat any action. He felt Wilson move behind him and followed suit, rising from his place on the bench.

He took a step away from the piano only to be stopped dead in his tracks. "I need to know what you're feeling." He was frozen, speechless. "What happened tonight on that dance floor? Just now, when you were playing, what were you thinking about?" His fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. So many questions; questions he knew the answers to but was terrified to respond to. "House, please talk to me."

Without turning, "I am afraid my answers will push you away." There, he'd said it. He was afraid.

He heard the footsteps behind him before the words. "Look at me." With a gentle tug at his arm, he turned to face the man he was so terrified of losing. "I told you I would stay. I will not leave you. Please tell me what you are thinking."

He locked his eyes with the ones he longed for and took a deep breath before giving everything he had. Raising one hand, he placed it on the cheek in front of him, brushing his thumb over smooth skin. "I was thinking that I didn't want the moment to end, that I was afraid I'd never get to repeat it, and I want to. I want every song I play to be for you."

In slow motion, allowing plenty of time for rejection, he closed the distance between them. His eyes drifted closed moments before their lips met. It wasn't a kiss filled with passion, but lips gently brushing, testing the other pair.

Quicker than they had met, House moved away as to not press his luck. Wilson's face was flush and he couldn't hide the hint of desire that shown in his eyes. With a little hoarseness in his throat, Wilson spoke, "I think it's time for bed. I'll…uh…take the couch."

House gave a curt nod and headed toward his bedroom, slightly disappointed. He was stopped by a voice as he entered the hallway. "I need more time."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews! Keep them coming! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

5

The next couple of days were spent casually, House attempting to give Wilson the time he had requested. He wouldn't lie and say it had been easy, but he had done it. They had not spoken of the dance, the piano playing or the kiss, although both men were aware of the lingering topics in the air. Instead, they had watched television, gone grocery shopping, played video games and even gone to a ball game.

At breakfast, after having been three nights since their kiss, House decided it was time. He had one week left, and he wouldn't waste another day of it. Besides, he had made the reservations for this the first night and he wasn't about to change them. "So, you're going to need to pack."

Without hesitation and knowing the answer already, "Are you kicking me out?"

"I'm kicking us both out. We're going away for a few days."

"Where?"

"Not important. Important is that it's not _here._"

His first word was stretched, "Ooookaaayy. So what am I supposed to bring if I don't know where I'm going?"

"Since you only have one suitcase and one garment bag of personal items in this whole apartment, I'd just bring it all."

Wilson chuckled, knowing he'd probably never outsmart his friend. "Okay, when are we leaving?"

"Today. I have to go pick up a few things. I should be back in an hour or so. Be ready when I get back." With that, he stood and limped toward the door.

Wilson turned his attention to cleaning the kitchen before he headed to pack. He knew this trip was coming due to the lack of food House had allowed him to buy at the grocery store, but he still hadn't figured out what it would entail. The last few days, he could see how much House was holding back his emotions, somehow patiently giving him the time he had asked for.

He had used these past few days to think about his own feelings and whether or not he was being completely true to himself. Thoughts of how strange life would be, committing himself to his male best friend constantly ran through his mind. No matter how strange it sounded though, there was one truth that remained; he loved House.

His problem was that he didn't know if it was romantic love or not. He had tried on the dance floor to give in to the feeling, and had succeeded. Being in House's arms he somehow felt safe. How the one man that had hurt him so much made him feel safe is what bothered him. And then the kiss had come. The kiss that he had plenty of time to refuse, he still let happen. It was a kiss that still burned his lips. It was a kiss he longed for again.

All of these feelings he had kept hidden, secret until he sorted and gathered his emotions and could make one clear decision as to not give House any false hope. Now, he knew that he had to give this a chance. It was time to allow House the opportunity to actually 'date' him, without boundaries.

Just as he finished packing, House returned. After an inquisitive look at the lack of bags, House cured Wilson's curiosity. "I left everything in your car. Are you ready to go? It should only take me a few minutes to pack."

As he headed toward the hallway, Wilson stepped in front of him. With one hand firmly on House's chest, he pointed a finger of the other over his shoulder toward the packed bags by the couch. "I packed for you already."

After a raised eyebrow and without even looking over his shoulder, "You packed for me?"

"Yes. I just matched what I had to what I packed for you."

"Great! Let's go then."

He went to turn, but Wilson caught his arm. "Wait." House turned back toward his friend, not entirely sure whether he should be worried to or not. "I'm ready."

"Right, which is why I said we should go. Yet, you told me to wait."

House watched the man in front of him struggle. This wasn't about being ready to go. This was about being ready for something entirely different. Once he started speaking, his words were slow and full of emotion. "No. I mean…I'm ready. I've…had enough time. I want to…give this…a chance."

The timing of Wilson's admittance was perfect, and necessary for this trip to be successful. House tried to hold back his smile, knowing there were still questions, questions that needed to be asked and answered by both of them. The lingering silence must have made Wilson nervous. He broke it saying, "I mean it House. I-I want to…date…you."

The smile he had been trying to hide spread across his face. He took one step, closing the distance between them slightly. "Jimmy Wilson, are you asking me to go steady with you?"

The tension eased visibly in Wilson's body and a blush rose to his cheeks. "I'm pretty sure you asked me first and I just made you wait."

He was sure the desire in his eyes would be evident when he responded. "You did play a little hard-to-get." Wilson shied away before House chuckled and turned once again to leave. "Let's go."

After loading their bags into the trunk, they got into the car, which quickly filled with jazz music. As he pulled out of the spot, House informed him, "It's about an hour drive, so you can relax. There are some magazines and today's paper in the back seat if you want."

Wilson turned to get something to read, settling on a medical magazine. About 10 minutes into the trip, he slipped his left arm across the console and placed it gently on House's thigh, careful of his scar.

Seemingly at their destination, House pulled the car up to valet parking of an elegant looking hotel. Once inside, House handed Wilson his credit card. "You go check in. Reservation is in my name. I have to use the little boy's room."

Wilson made his way to the receptionist desk. "Can I help you, Sir?"

"Yes. I need to check in. There should be a reservation for Gregory House."

After several clicks of the mouse and keyboard she replied, "Yes Dr. House. I have your reservation here. Would you like the one or two bedroom suite? It says here you were not sure upon booking."

Wilson swallowed hard, knowing now why House had sent him to check in. This was his first choice, a bedroom together or not. He was trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to control his nerves. They had only kissed once. How would they sleep together? But choosing two bedrooms might crush House's feelings or even worse, show that Wilson wasn't as ready as he said he was. In any other situation, both men probably would have had sex on the first date.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the receptionist. "Dr. House?"

"Uh, sorry. One. One bedroom will be fine." As she completed their reservation and he handed over the credit card, he briefly allowed his mind to wander yet again. Twice he had been called 'Dr. House' and hadn't bothered to correct it. He wondered what it would be like to always be known to belong to House…and if House would ever allow himself to be claimed in that way.

He nearly jumped at the hand placed on the small of his back. "Everything okay here?"

Smiling at the public show of affection, "Yep. We're all set."

Followed by a bellhop, they headed to their room. Once inside, House said, "You can just leave the bags by the door."

With a smirk, Wilson changed the direction. "Uh, in our bedroom would be great, thanks."

The bellhop nodded and headed toward the door which seemingly led to the bedroom. House turned to Wilson, "You chose a one bedroom?"

Satisfied with the shock on House's face, "Yes, yes I did."

House took the few steps necessary to erase the space between them, "You minx."

Wilson heard the desire mixed with the sarcastic pet name and was more at ease than he thought he'd be. "Well, I'm just trying to be your dream come true."

Swiftly, House wrapped his left arm around Wilson's waist and pulled their bodies together. "I don't think you have to try very hard."

Their conversation was interrupted by the bellhop clearing his throat. House made his annoyance obvious, taking money from his pocket and holding it out in the general direction of the door. "Here. Go."

Wilson shook his head and took the money from House's hand. He walked across the room saying, "He didn't mean that. He gets cranky when he misses his nap." After handing the money and shaking the bellhop's hand, he waited until he left the room to turn back towards House with his arms crossed over his chest. "What? I was giving him his tip." After a raised eyebrow, "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'll behave."

Wilson rolled his eyes, "_That_ might be impossible for you." He headed toward the bedroom saying over his shoulder, "I'm going to unpack before we do anything."

House appeared at the door and leaned against the jam. Wilson was startled by his question. "Do I embarrass you?"

He chose his words carefully, "Have you embarrassed me in the past? Yes, as a best friend would embarrass another best friend. Will you embarrass me in the future? Probably, as a boyfriend would embarrass his…boyfriend. Does it embarrass me that people see us as a couple? No, it doesn't and it won't."

Wilson headed into the adjoining Master Bath to unpack their toiletries and House followed, again stopping at the door. "I don't want to have to worry about hiding this."

"I know. Me neither. I suck at lying anyway." He finished what he was doing before turning and continuing. "I told you, I'm ready. We're dating. No boundaries."

House's signature curt nod came before he asked, "Ready for lunch?"

They drove into a quaint little town, both sides of the road lined with small shops and intimate diners. Wilson chose a place for lunch and afterwards they browsed, intermittently holding hands, in a couple shops before House announced it was time to head to the hotel.

Once back in their room, "There's music downstairs in the lounge starting in an hour. After that, we'll eat a late dinner here at the hotel."

"Okay, I'll grab a quick shower then."

Forty five minutes later, they headed toward the lounge. Once they arrived, they found it full, but to Wilson's surprise they were led to a table right in front near the piano. He was shocked at how much planning House had put into this.

After a glance at his watch nearly fifteen minutes later Wilson asked, "Who is it we're supposed to be hearing? There is a pretty big crowd here."

House took a sip of his scotch before standing. "I think it's the headliner they're more interested in than the opening act." He ambled to the piano, looking back to see the open-mouthed, shocked look on Wilson's face. To the crowd, "Good evening!" A run of notes on the piano caught everyone's attention and silenced the murmurs in the room. "Thank you all for being here. My name is Greg House and I'll be entertaining you for the next half hour. Although I don't normally play in public, the hotel kindly allowed me this moment so I could play for my boyfriend, who I don't know how to live without. Jimmy, every song I play is for you."

The crowd clapped as tears welled in Wilson's eyes. Their earlier discussion made sense now. House had been trying to make sure he would not embarrass him with his public announcement of their relationship. Every note touched his heart. He felt every song. His eyes only left House once, to order a round of drinks, instructing House's be brought to the piano. A wink of thanks came, warming Wilson's heart.

The half hour came to an end quicker than Wilson had expected. The crowd clapped and Wilson stood. He met House halfway between his chair and the piano, never hesitating before wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and drawing his face closer. Their lips met, this time filled with no uncertainty. House snaked one arm around Wilson's waist, pulling him closer. Whistles came with the applause, causing Wilson to chuckle as he pulled back slightly from the kiss. He hand moved from the back of House's neck to his cheek. "Thank you. That was amazing."

With a wicked grin, "The music or the kiss?"

"Both."

People started walking up to compliment House and shake his hand. Wilson stood by his side, feeling comfortable being the supportive boyfriend. He was surprised when a man turned to him with an outstretched hand. "Jimmy, right?"

Shaking his hand, "Ah, James. Only he gets to call me Jimmy."

With a grin, "Understood. Well, your boyfriend's got talent. He has an amazing ear _and _amazing hands. How'd you get so lucky?"

Before Wilson could answer, House interrupted saying, "I'm the lucky one."


	6. Chapter 6

6

They walked hand in hand toward the elevator. Wilson thought once about asking about dinner, but then dismissed it, knowing that House had planned this and knew what he was doing. Upon entering their suite, he realized he had been correct. The lights were dim and faint music was playing. A candlelit table was set for two and a waiter was standing, ready.

Once seated, the waited poured the wine and removed the domes from the food before House dismissed him with a generous tip. After they were alone, Wilson spoke, "So, you are single by choice, not because you don't know how to treat a date."

"I _was _single until now because in reality the only person I really wanted was you."

The admission was a huge step for House, Wilson knew that. He also knew that in order for this to work, he had to be willing to ask questions and reveal his own feelings as well. "When did you know you were gay?"

House seemed at ease as he spoke. "I'm not gay." Wilson raised an eyebrow and he continued. "To be gay would mean that I am attracted to men and I'm not. I'm attracted to _you._ There is no other man that I want in my bed other than you."

Wilson struggled with his next question, knowing that he needed to know the answer, but not knowing whether he wanted it. "A woman then?"

House stopped eating and paused to catch Wilson's eyes before answering. "No." He went back to eating before continuing. "I never cheated on Stacey and I will not cheat on you."

"So…when did you know you were attracted to me?"

"Better question. But the answer is that I'm not entirely sure. All I know is that since that night in the bar, when I watched you smash that mirror, I've always pictured you in my life. Up until Amber, you were always there, so I never had to confront any feelings. It wasn't until I lost you that I realized I can't live without you. Now that I have you back, I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep you."

They finished their dinner in a comfortable silence, enjoying the meal and the simple presence of each other. When the last bite was gone, Wilson didn't hesitate to ask, "Will you dance with me?"

Both men rose together and Wilson drifted into House's arms. The music played as they swayed back and forth. With the arm around Wilson's waist, House pulled their bodies together. Wilson placed his cheek on House's shoulder, his face rubbing against House's unshaven neck.

Minutes passed and Wilson suddenly felt fear creep in. "What if we can't live together? What if I do a bunch of stuff that annoys you? What if-?"

House pushed him back gently and cut him off. "There is nothing you will do that will annoy me so much to make me not want to be with you."

"But-"

"Jimmy, I love you." Wilson's breath caught in his throat. Somehow he knew that House loved him, but hearing the words stunned him. Before he could respond, House continued. "I've only said those words to one other person in my adult life. Don't think I chose them lightly. I'm the one who needs to worry about losing you. You have no need to worry about losing me. I'm here for as long as you'll have me."

Wilson's voice was still caught. Without words, he only knew of one way to respond. Quickly, he pulled House's lips to his. It was not a gentle kiss. It was a kiss filled with pent up passion. Immediately his skin screamed against the assault of House's unshaven jaw, but he didn't care. He wrapped one arm tightly around House's back with the other pulling at the back of his neck.

He opened his mouth, accepting entrance of the tongue that pressed against his lips. Tongues clashed and he couldn't stop the moan that rose in his throat. In response, House pulled their bodies even closer, kneading his fingers into Wilson's back.

House felt himself being pulled over the edge, and slowed their kiss to a manageable pace before things moved faster than he wanted. They weren't ready for the next step, at least one of them wasn't. As the kiss came to an end, chests heaving against each other, Wilson buried his face in House's neck.

It was a long time before either spoke, both savoring the moment as long as possible. Finally, House asked, "Do you want dessert? I have to call for it to be brought up."

Wilson took a small step back before answering. "Sure, sounds good."

Dessert came and went and with the evening came another bottle of wine and a movie. Wilson was snug against House's side on the couch when he asked, "Do you like my apartment?"

"It's an apartment. Sure."

With one arm around Wilson he shook his head. "No that's not what I meant. I meant, as a place to live, do you like my apartment?"

"Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"No, not yet. What I'm asking is, if you did happen to live with me, would you like living in my apartment?"

"I feel like this is a puzzle that I'm supposed to solve before I answer."

House brushed a hand over his face. "Jimmy, stop over-thinking. All I'm asking is if we moved in together would you want to live in my apartment or get a new place?"

"Well why couldn't you just ask it that way in the first place?"

He rolled his eyes. "Can you answer the question?"

"New place." Wilson felt House tense for a second, but immediately ease, obviously realizing his reaction had been felt.

His voice was calm when he asked, "Why?"

"Because, your place would always be your place with me living there. I would always feel like you could just kick me out whenever you wanted. And I would always feel like I had to ask to do anything or move anything. I wouldn't feel like it was my home. Besides, I want my own bathroom." Both men laughed. "Why are we even talking about this anyway? Aren't we jumping the gun a little? We don't even know if we can sleep together, let along share a bed for eternity."

With that, House used the remote to click the television into darkness. He stood and reached a hand out to the man he loved. "Let's find out, shall we?"

House watched as panic set into Wilson's face. He was frozen still. "House…I'm not ready….I mean…I don't know-"

"Shut up, Jimmy. We're going to _sleep_ next to each other. Nothing else." After a slight nod, Wilson rose and took House's offered hand. Once in the bedroom House gave Wilson the option of the bathroom first. House went in after him only to find him still standing in the middle of the room when he came back out. He was clad in full lounge pants and a t-shirt, staring at the bed. He took a deep, calming breath before asking, "Do you want me to sleep on the couch? Or get a different room?"

Wilson's eyes never left the bed, and his voice sounded distant. "No. I just don't know what side of the bed you want."

House walked up behind him and placed a hand on each shoulder, "The left side. As long as it doesn't matter to you." He pushed him gently toward the bed and caught no resistance. When they reached the right side of the bed, House wrapped his arms around Wilson's shoulders and pressed their bodies together. "If you aren't ready, we don't have to do this."

Wilson still wasn't used to House caring about his feelings, or what he wanted. The patience he granted him was something he'd never expected. House had told him that he loved him. With each passing moment, he believed it more and more, and it scared the hell out of him. Love was not something that had been a fairy tale for him. Many women had said those three words to him, yet all the relationships had failed.

His relationship with House had never been based on love and for years he was certain that was why it never failed. Now everything was changing and love had come into the picture. When House had said those three words, Wilson had wanted to utter them back, but couldn't find his voice to do it. He knew that the words would have been truth, but he wasn't ready to say them. Yet House had never blinked when the response hadn't come, never said a word. And here he was, even after that, still loving him.

After a deep breath, he pulled from House's embrace and got into bed without a word. After turning off the lights, House got into bed beside him. He never made a move to cross over the center of the bed. The room was dark and silent for a few moments before House spoke. "Goodnight Jimmy."

"Goodnight House." But even after his response he knew he wasn't ready to sleep. His mind raced, knowing this was not what they needed to do to see if this would work. Sleeping in the same bed without even touching was not intimate at all. This was just two guys forced to share a bed.

His heart was beating rapidly, fear still present. He took a deep breath before speaking, hoping House hadn't fallen asleep yet. "Can I sleep next to you?"

"I thought you were."

Still staring at the ceiling, "No, that's not…can I come sleep over there with you?"

His answer was simple. "Careful of my leg."

Wilson scooted across the bed, not at all used to being the one who went to the other side of the bed. Everything was new with House, everything was different. It was a fact that excited him as well as scared him. He constantly second guessed himself, wondering if what he was doing was wrong.

He knew how to date a woman, to woo her, to treat her right. He'd never been on the receiving end of such treatment, though. He also understood that this relationship required more thought. It had more meaning. The only 'why' that could answer that was that it meant more. This, however it had started, whatever it was or would end up being, was the most important relationship he'd ever been in.

As instructed, he was careful of House's leg as he moved his body to mold with the one next to him. As he reached his hand across, he met the bare flesh of his chest. It was skin he'd never touched before. Without thinking, he spoke. "You're not wearing a shirt."

"I never wear a shirt to bed. Do you want me to?"

There was a slight pause before he answered. "No, no I don't."

House wrapped an arm around him as he laid his head on the bare chest beneath him. Carefully, he crossed the lower part of his leg over House's. Without thinking, he turned to place a kiss on House's chest and felt him shiver. Liking the response it invoked, he did it again. He got a different response the second time, equally satisfying. House hissed in a breath.

With a courage he didn't know he possessed, he pushed the sheet down to House's waist. He kissed again, this time lower, causing House to completely tense.

After his lips met skin once more, House interrupted. "Jimmy, what are you doing?"

With his face only inches from House's body, "Making out with my boyfriend."

With a flick of his tongue near the waist, Wilson drew a stronger response. "Dammit Jimmy. Stop!"

Wilson thought about stopping, but decided against it. His tongue met skin again and this time House grabbed at his arm, yanking him up the bed. "Jimmy, stop! Look at me. This is not making out. This is foreplay. And you might be ready for foreplay, but you're _not_ ready for what comes after it."

Wilson saw intense desire in the blue pools of House's eyes. "You want me."

His mind was still racing, passion still tingling his nerves. "Yes, yes I do. But not…this way."

Emotions whirled and he wasn't sure if he should be hurt or not. "What do you mean, 'not this way'?"

"We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, let's sleep."

Wilson sat up, aggravated. "No! Let's talk about it now, House."

House ran a hand over his face, fearing this wouldn't end well. "All I meant was right now, tonight, is not the right time. You aren't ready."

His voice was rising. "How do you know if I'm ready or not? I'm not the one who stopped this, you are! I think _you_ are the one that's not ready! What? So you can have sex with a hooker any night of the week, but not me? Is this just some game to you?" He got out of bed as he continued. "Well guess what? I'm done playing! I'm not a toy, House. I'm not going to allow you to play with my feelings!"

He had never allowed House to say a word before he turned toward the door. House rose to follow him, his leg making him much slower. "Jimmy, wait!" He entered the living room just in time to see him walk out the door to the suite. After slamming his fist against the wall, he turned back into the bedroom.

After popping a Vicodin, he sat down on the edge of the bed. He knew Wilson wasn't leaving, especially in his pajamas, but watching him go still hurt. His head fell to his hands. He knew this moment would come, the moment when he screwed something up and caused their first argument. He wasn't prepared for it to come so soon though. He had somehow envisioned this trip to turn out perfect, but realized now perfection was not obtainable…ever.

Twenty minutes later, of which he'd counted every one, he found Wilson down in the bar after giving him space to cool down. There was a man on each side of him and the bartender across the bar, all obviously listening to his story. He thought for a minute about being angry that Wilson would exploit their first fight, but he knew it would get him nowhere except worse off.

With slow steps, he walked up behind Wilson, his vulnerability growing. He started speaking a few feet away from Wilson's back. "I'm sorry." Wilson didn't turn, but everyone else glanced his direction. He hated apologizing in front of other people, but he knew this was necessary. He continued walking, slowly, as he spoke. "You're right…about everything. I am the one not ready. But not for the reason or reasons you think. And yes, I can have sex with a hooker any night of the week, but I can't with you." He was directly behind Wilson, mere inches away when he stopped. "Because I don't want to have sex with you. I want to make love to you. And to do that, you need to love me first." He reached a hand out to Wilson's back. "This is not a game to me and I'm not toying with you or your feelings. I'm just trying to do this right." Wilson still made no move to turn around. House felt defeated. He didn't know what else to do. "Jimmy, please. I told you I'd screw this up every once in a while." He hung his head. "Okay. We are supposed to leave tomorrow to go to my parents' so I can introduce you…if you're staying. I'll be waiting in our room for you. I love you, Jimmy."

He turned and walked away, fighting tears and anger all at the same time. When he got to the door of the bar, he froze at the sound of Wilson's voice. "You're taking me to see your father?"

Turning, not caring if anyone saw the tears in his eyes, he replied, "Yeah, I want him to meet the man I'm in love with."

Wilson started walking toward him. His face was blotchy and his eyes wet and red. "You're in love with me?"

"I've already told you that."

"No, no you didn't. You told me you love me. Being 'in love' is different."

He wiped at his eyes, "I told you I suck at this."

Wilson finally reached him. "No, I'm the one who sucks at this. I'm sorry, House. Take me to bed."

Walking hand in hand they did just that. Once in bed, side by side, with Wilson's head on his chest, House closed his eyes. "Good night Jimmy."

"Good night…Greg."


	7. Chapter 7

7

The visit with House's parents had not gone well, to say the very least. Upon arriving, his mother had been home and House had time to talk to her. She had been very supportive of House's happiness and curious about Wilson and their relationship. When House's father had walked in though, finding them holding hands, it had been an altogether different reaction. He had nearly immediately kicked them out with the use of derogatory names and foul language. The fight between he and House was monumental ending with House telling him goodbye for what he said was the final time in his life.

Wilson had gotten into the driver's seat with House fuming in the passenger seat. He'd driven, where he had no idea, and he wasn't about to ask House where to go. It was nearly a half hour into driving before he figured out what he was going to do. House needed to know that family wasn't always bad. Some families were simply supportive. At the next few red lights he sent and received a few texts without House even questioning it and started driving towards his own parents' home.

With plans in place, and feeling proud of himself for handling a difficult situation, he placed a hand on House's thigh and waited for him to work through his thoughts. It was nearly an hour later when House spoke. "I'm sorry. I didn't want that to happen."

Wilson had time to think of every possible response he could say and was glad that he was prepared for this conversation. "Are you apologizing for standing up for me to your dad?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not. That's what happened back there. He got mad at you because of me and you fought for me. No one's ever done that for me before." He saw House nod and go back to staring out the window.

Only a few minutes passed before House spoke again. "Well, we were supposed to stay at my parents' tonight so I have no plans. Is there anything you want to do? Where are we going anyway?"

"We're going to my parents' house. I've already told them we're coming. Mom's making dinner."

He rolled his eyes and couldn't help his sarcasm. "Sure, let's get all of the family hating us in the same day!"

"Not all families are the same, Greg. And your mom was great!" House grumbled, but didn't put up a fight. "It'll be a bit before we get there. Why don't you take a Vicodin and try to get in some sleep. I'll wake you when we get there."

Surprisingly, House did as he suggested. With the seat reclined, he slept the rest of the way to Wilson's parents' house, giving Wilson plenty of time to think. So many things had happened in the past few days. He was a smart enough man to realize that both of them had had plenty of time to think in the weeks they hadn't seen each other. But in that time, House had come to a much larger epiphany than he had. Upon their reuniting, House had already come to terms with his feelings, understanding his love for his best friend went deeper than just being friends. House had been willing to drop everything to win his heart.

That's how their relationship worked, though. House could take various, seemingly unrelated facts, some most people would not even notice or recognize and could put all of them together to come up with one singular thing or event that tied them together. That's why he was a diagnostician. His mind worked to figure out how the pieces fit together and most of all, why they fit together and he could create a plan to act on his findings. Wilson, however, was an oncologist. People came to him with a very definite condition and he could put steps in place to react to that condition.

This brought them to their current situation. House had put all the pieces together, figured out what it meant and had created a plan to act on his feelings. House's mind was a complex puzzle in itself. Wilson longed to understand it, solve it, but he knew he never would. But it was something that kept his interest, intrigued him. Now, with all the facts brought to him by House, Wilson was left to put steps in place to react.

So far, he felt like he was failing at that. Every time it had been his turn to take a step, it had been wrong. He was determined to change his course.

As promised, Wilson woke House when they arrived. "Hey, we're here." He gave House a minute to wake up, shaking away the grogginess. "Are you ready to meet my parents?"

"I've met your parents, at your second and third weddings, remember?"

"Right. What I meant was, are you ready for me to introduce you to my parents as my boyfriend?"

"Is that what you want?"

House was challenging him and he was ready for it. "Yes."

Their eyes were locked. "This changes your whole life. Are…you…sure?"

Wilson didn't back down. He spaced his words on purpose, just as House had. "Yes…I…am." House nodded before making a move to get out of the car.

They had barely made it to the porch when Wilson's mother opened the door with arms open. "Hi, Mom, thanks for letting us come on such short notice."

In their hug, she spoke. "Don't be silly! With your schedule we hardly ever get to see you! We'll take what we can get."

She back away from their hug and Wilson wasted no time. He took House by the hand and pulled him toward his side. "You remember Greg, right?"

His mother only hesitated for a moment after her glance at their entwined hands before taking the steps necessary to embrace House as well. "Well, of course. Hello, Greg, so nice of you to come."

Feeling slightly awkward, not being the hugging type, House hugged the woman back replying, "Nice to see you again, Sophie."

As she backed away, she continued to ramble about missing Wilson, how the family had been and what she was cooking for dinner. The atmosphere was casual so far, and it didn't go unnoticed to House that Wilson hadn't let go of his hand yet. There had been these little moments these past few days where he was nearly convinced that Wilson was ready for their relationship. But every time a moment came, another came to ruin it. Of course there were also the lingered unspoken three words that for some reason he longed to hear more than any other.

House's mind had been wandering, but was pulled back into the conversation when he heard Wilson's mother say, "That must be your father home from work. He was so excited when I called him to tell him you'd be here."

Wilson felt House's grip tense as they stood. He leaned closer before whispering, "It's gonna be okay. Trust me."

Still holding hands, they waited until Wilson's father reached the kitchen, Wilson relaxed and House quite the opposite. His father entered with a smile on his face. "James, I couldn't believe it when your mother told me you'd be here." After giving his son a hug, he stepped back and his eyes fell upon their held hands and then drifted to House. House braced himself for impact.

Wilson was the next to speak. "Dad, you remember Greg, right?"

There was a slight pause before he asked, "Are you two dating?"

House wanted to answer, but knew it wasn't his place. Instead, he remained silent while Wilson responded. "Yeah, Dad, we are."

The news had shocked him, but he was maintaining his composure. "Are you…married?"

"No."

"Engaged?"

"No."

Suddenly, his father smiled. "Well, Greg, you must be special. James has never allowed us to meet anyone he was dating until they were already engaged. The first wife we didn't even meet until the wedding. Since I'm guessing neither of you is pregnant, to what do we owe this pleasure?"

Everyone laughed, the tension in the room easing. "We're just on a little vacation, Dad and with our busy schedules I didn't know when the next time would be that we'd be able to visit."

Henry raised his eyebrows, "You shouldn't lie to your father, Son, but I'm okay if you're not ready to tell me the truth. When you are, let me know." Turning his attention to his wife he asked, "So what's for dinner, my dear?"

As they were talking, Wilson turned to House. "See, I told you everything would be okay."

"I'm sorry I didn't trust you."

Henry's voice commanded their attention once again. "So, dinner is under way. James, what will it be, kitchen or television?"

Without hesitation, Wilson answered, "Kitchen."

Henry then turned to House. "Greg?"

He glanced at Wilson first who gave him a nudge of his chin, telling him to go relax. With a slight hesitation, not wanting to leave Wilson's side, "I'm gonna go with…television."

"Great, you let us know when dinner is ready, James."

Once they were seated in the living room, one man in each chair, the television turned to ESPN, Henry started with the questions House knew were coming. "So, will you tell me the truth?"

"Depends, what do you want to know?"

"Why are you here?"

House bounced his cane on the floor between his feet. "If I know your son, and I believe I do, we're here so he can show me that all families don't suck like mine."

"And?"

House glanced at Henry with a smirk. This man was smart. He liked him. Sitting up a little straighter, and with a little more confidence, he continued. "And…the truth is, I wanted to come here anyway, but I needed it to be Jimmy's idea."

Henry was very casual, leaned back, hands folded on is lap. "So are you really dating my son? The truth, please."

"Truth is, I love your son and I want your permission to give him a ring."

"So, let me get this straight. You're gay, but old fashioned."

"I'm not gay. I love your _son_, not _men._ And I'm not old fashioned either. But your son is."

"What's this ring for? Last I heard, New Jersey doesn't recognize same-sex marriages."

"New Jersey does recognize same-sex civil unions. The bill was passed last year." He could tell Henry was not satisfied with that answer, so he continued. "Jimmy has been my best friend since the day I met him. I've screwed up a lot, and for some reason, he's still here. I hurt him pretty bad, and I nearly lost him not too long ago. That's when I knew I couldn't live without him. Now, I want to show him I'm serious."

"Let's get two things straight here. One, since you're a man I'll tell you this, I can handle a woman breaking his heart. It's happened, and he lived. I think a lot of credit for that goes to you. He always ran to you and you were always there. But know, that if you, a man, breaks my sons heart, I will hunt you down and I will hurt you. Do I make myself clear?" House nodded. "Two, I know for a fact my son wants a child. I can't control whether you two have one or not, but I want your word on one thing. If you do adopt a child and it's a boy, I want you to promise me that he will carry on our name."

House swallowed hard. How had he not known that Wilson wanted a child? How had he never mentioned it? Fear started to creep in as he pondered this new fact, wondering if it could change everything. With a little hesitation, that he knew did not go unnoticed, he nodded his head in agreement.

"As long as we have an understanding, you can give my son that ring."


	8. Chapter 8

8

Two weeks had passed since they'd come home. House was back to work and Wilson was still living with him, with his things slowly creeping their way into the apartment. They had looked at a few different places to move, but hadn't found one they both liked.

Things were moving in a positive direction, but House still had lingering worries. Even though he had told him time and time again that he loved him, Wilson still hadn't uttered the words back. On top of that, the subject of having children still hadn't surfaced.

This last fact was something House planned on correcting tonight at the next condo they were going to look at. House had specifically chosen a three bedroom, although they'd mainly only viewed two bedrooms thus far and he planned on mentioning use of the third bedroom to gauge Wilson's reaction.

As they had planned, Wilson picked him up from work so they could meet the realtor on time. Upon arriving, the realtor waited outside while they went in to look around. Just as he had anticipated, Wilson loved it. "Greg, this place is gorgeous, but it's a little more expensive than we talked about."

He tried to sound casual even though he'd rehearsed what he was going to say a dozen times. "Yeah, but we could talk them down. And it's a great neighborhood, very safe. Look at all the kids playing in their yards."

Still looking around, Wilson added, "I know, but what would we do with all this space and the third bedroom?"

Jackpot! Wilson had asked the perfect question for his next response. "We could use it for a den, or an exercise room…or a nursery."

Seemingly distracted, "Yeah, but…" Then it hit him. He turned with a furrowed brow. "Wait. Did you just say 'a nursery'?" He took calculated steps toward House. "How did you…know?"

House stood his ground, with only a little trepidation in his mind. "Since you've never mentioned it, I had to find out."

"So this is what? A trick? A test?"

"It's neither. Don't look at me like that. I'm not the one holding back important information. I just want you to tell me if this is something you want so we can have a real discussion about it. Don't you think it's important for me to know if the man I'm in love with wants to have a baby?"

"We're leaving. Now." He brushed passed House, making a beeline for the door. House followed him, telling the realtor on the way out that they'd be in touch.

Neither of them spoke in the car until they pulled up outside the apartment. When Wilson made no move to shut off the engine, House remained still, waiting for the explosion. He wasn't ready for what came next. "Get out."

"Excuse me?"

Wilson never looked at him. "Get out of the car."

House's heart was pounding, "Where are you going?"

He was yelling now, "Just get out of the damn car!"

"So this is it? I mention having a baby and you run? You're the one who wants the baby!"

His knuckles were white, gripping the steering wheel. "I can't have a baby, I'm sterile. I've been married three times, House. You're the genius, you figure it out."

He felt like he'd been punched, both by the news and by the use of his last name. "I…I didn't know. You never told me." He wanted to reach across the car and comfort Wilson somehow, but feared what reaction he'd get. Instead, he offered, "Please come inside. Let's talk about it."

His next words were like a plea and came out in little above a whisper. "Please just get out of the car."

House watched as tears rolled down Wilson's face, feeling completely helpless. "I love you, Jimmy. Please come home." A slight nod came in response, giving him the courage to get out of the car as he'd been instructed.

Once inside, he knew he had two choices. One, he could let himself break down, thinking Wilson would not be returning, or two, he could believe the slight signal he'd gotten before exiting the car and do something constructive. It only took a second for him to decide on the latter. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped a Vicodin and went to work.

Hours later, he was seated on the couch when he heard the key in the door. He waited until Wilson got to the couch. It took all he had not to reach out to him, but he knew what happened next had to come from Wilson, not him.

Standing directly in front of House, Wilson apologized. "I'm sorry. I should have told you…everything." He fell to his knees, face and eyes still red. "I shouldn't have left, but I didn't know what to do. I thought…I thought there was no reason to mention it since it wasn't possible. I know. I'm stupid." He started to cry again, his words spoken through tears. "But I can't lose you over this. I…I love you, Greg. Please forgive me."

House felt his heart skip a beat. James Wilson loved him. He wondered if he'd ever feel a better emotion in his whole life. This moment was the moment he'd been waiting for. With one hand on each of Wilson's cheeks, cupping his face in his hands, "Jimmy, I love you too and I already forgave you."

Just then, a knock came to the door with a female voice yelling, "Hey, can I come in now?"

Wiping tears from his eyes, he attempted to sound casual through his emotional turmoil. "Yeah, uh, did you know there is a line of women standing outside the door? I asked one of them on the way in and she said they were waiting for me."

House chuckled. To the woman behind the door, "Give us two minutes." Then to Wilson, "I made some calls while you were gone." He leaned back on the couch and patted the cushion beside him. "We're interviewing potential surrogates."

Without hesitating, Wilson moved to sit beside House. "Surrogates? Like surrogate mothers? Greg, those are hookers!"

Sounding matter-of-fact, "They are not hookers, they are call girls. Completely different."

"How is that different? And anyway, I already told you….I can't-"

"I know. But I can. My DNA, your last name…it will work."

Wilson couldn't help his shocked expression. "I…are you serious? You don't even like kids."

"I don't like other people's snotty, bratty kids. So…we'll raise ours right. It'll be fine."

"Greg, we need to talk about this. This isn't a casual decision!"

"Okay, okay, we'll talk, but later. Right now, I'm paying that line of women by the hour. Let's interview them now and talk after."

Wilson shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. "This is crazy." A moment passed before he stood and added, "Okay. I'm going to get a beer. I'm gonna need it to get through this. Call…the first one in."

Hours later, well into the middle of the night, they watched the last girl leave. Wilson stretched and leaned back onto the couch. "I'm exhausted. We'll talk tomorrow." Dreading that he had to work the next day, House agreed quickly and followed Wilson into their bedroom.

Wilson started their conversation at breakfast, just as House had expected. He had a billion questions, looking to House for all of the answers, most of which he had, thankfully.

"Look, plain and simple. I called and asked for girls with fair skin, dark hair, at least 5'6" in their mid-twenties who had passed their last two drug and STD tests that would be willing to be a surrogate. My offer was a place to live while pregnant, all meals and $500 a month. She signs papers agreeing to the terms, no drinking, smoking, blah, blah while pregnant and that the baby is ours. She gets her prenatal care at the free clinic and we foot the bill for delivery. Once the baby is born, we hand over another $5000 and she lives happily ever after."

"I get it, you can make logical plans. What about the baby? Greg, you've never wanted a baby."

"But you do."

"That's not enough."

House dropped his fork to his plate, the clattering startling Wilson. "It is enough! You want a baby and I want to give you one." His words were a little louder than he intended. After a calming breath he continued. "I saw the hurt when you told me in the car. It's a hurt I can erase. I love you, and I want you to be happy. When you are happy, it makes me…happy. If having a baby is something you want, then I want one too." When Wilson didn't respond, he added. "I have to go to work. Just think about it, okay?"

Wilson nodded and he stood to leave. At the door, Wilson spoke behind him. "I love you, Greg."

He turned before heading out the door. "Love you too, Jimmy."

His morning had been long. His patient was slowly dying and so was he. All of his thoughts were on the discussion they'd had over breakfast and he couldn't clear his mind enough to diagnose his patient. Leaning back in the chair at his desk, he hoped his team would figure it out from the other room.

"I think she's the right choice."

Startled, he nearly toppled his chair over. When he recovered, he found Wilson standing in his office. "Who?"

Wilson walked across the room and balanced himself on the edge of House's desk. He handed a picture and notes from one of the interviews the previous evening to House. "This one; she's the one. She has all the right features, she only just started…this business…this year and she has a degree. I like her."

House was shocked, to say the least. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah…Yes."

Just then, Thirteen poked her head in House's office. "Am I interrupting?"

Wilson answered, "No, just came by to talk to Greg about something."

Her face scrunched. "Greg?"

House pushed his chair away from the desk and got up. "New thing we're trying…first names. We're gonna see if it catches on." He walked towards the middle of the room, seemingly to nowhere, except away from Wilson. "What do you want?"

She didn't have time to answer though, before Wilson jumped in. Pointing to the team in the other room but speaking to House he said, "You didn't tell them."

Thirteen's question was heard, but ignored. "Tell us what?"

House's words spat at Thirteen, "Get out."

Wilson stepped toward House. "I thought this wasn't going to be a secret?"

Thirteen questioned again. "What secret?"

His voice rose to a yell. "Get out!" This time, she listened and backed up, but only enough to stare through the other side of the glass door.

"Why haven't you told them?"

House's nervousness was evident, "It's none of their business. I-"

Wilson cut him off. "Are you embarrassed that I'm here?"

"No…I…"

"I can't believe this! You are embarrassed! Did you think I'd never find out that you were keeping me a secret?" He threw his hands up. "You know what? Nevermind! I'm leaving."

With that, he did just as he said. House's mind raced. He'd come this far and he wouldn't lose him over this. He yelled out his office door, "Jimmy, wait!" He was just in time to see Wilson step into the elevator. Turning back into his office, he moved as quickly as he could to the desk then back out to the rail above the entrance. After a quick glance, he didn't see Wilson. His eyes shot to the elevator as it dinged signaling it had reached the ground floor.

The doors swooshed open and Wilson stepped out, making a beeline for the exit. House yelled, "Jimmy wait!" When he didn't stop, House added, "I love you!" Wilson froze, along with everyone else within earshot. All eyes fell on him except the one pair that he called after. He pointed to a man near the reception desk. "You, catch this." He tossed a small box and the man caught it as instructed. "Go give it to him." He pointed to Wilson.

The man gave the box to Wilson and House waited. But he made no move to open the box or turn around. With everyone's attention still on him, he continued. "I'm a jerk. I know it, you know it. But I'm a jerk who's in love with you. And I suck at this…but you make me want to…get better. I can't live without you." It was then that Wilson turned, with tears in his eyes and looked up. "Jimmy, will you marry me?"

In a woosh it seemed, the whole crowd turned to Wilson. Without a word, Wilson opened the box, took the ring out and placed it on his own finger. The crowd clapped and whistled as House let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

When the noise died down he yelled, "See you when I get home."

Wilson nodded and turned for the door, but stopped. Turning back he yelled back, "Greg, call the realtor, tell her we'll take it."

A smile spread on his face as he watched Wilson turn and head for the door. To anyone else, it was just a place to live, but to him it meant they would be having a baby. Back in his office, after hearing endless banter from his ducklings about the recent sequence of events, he made two calls. His first call was to the realtor and the second was to Wilson's choice of surrogate.

At the end of the day, with his patient diagnosed and on the way to good health, House entered his apartment to the aroma of whatever Wilson had chosen for dinner. But House had other plans.

He entered the kitchen, finding Wilson cooking as he expected. The man was sexy and he wanted him. Since they had started dating, they had participated in random make-out sessions and spent a lot of time kissing and sharing personal space, but they hadn't yet taken that final step. That was a fact House wanted to change…tonight.

Walking up behind Wilson, he wrapped his left arm around his waist and kissed the back of his neck. Wilson tilted his head, giving him full access. Teasing him, House whispered against his neck, "So, I'm gone for a few hours to work and you get engaged behind my back?"

Having stopped what he was doing, his hands placed firmly on the counter in front of him to steady himself, his answer came in between House's attacks on his neck. "I couldn't help it…I'm in love…I wanna…have a baby."

Just as quickly as he'd started, House backed away, watching Wilson's knees give just a bit as he did. With calculated movements, House turned off the stove and put a couple things in the fridge before Wilson could even ask, "What are you doing?"

House closed the distance between them and pressed his body against Wilson. "I want to make love to you." He watched as the passion rose in the deep brown eyes that held his own. With gentle thrusts of his hips, he felt his partner's arousal grow against his left thigh. He leaned in and whispered huskily into the younger man's ear, "I want you."

Wilson's knees buckled and he only just barely steadied himself against the counter. House backed away saying, "Bedroom. I can't hold you up."

Once in the bedroom, Wilson wasted no time in tearing his shirt over his head. House followed, and before he could get it off, Wilson's mouth was on his bare skin. He marveled in the feeling for as long as his leg would allow before pushing toward the bed. When they reached the edge, he slipped a finger inside the waistband of Wilson's jeans. "Off."

Stripped down to his boxers, Wilson made a move to get into bed before House commanded, "Those too." He watched, begging his legs to hold him up while he finally got to take in the entire beauty of the man he loved. His eyes burned a path in the naked flesh his own body desired above any other. Lingering on Wilson's hard arousal he finally spoke. "So hot."

Not having the same confidence of instruction his older partner had, Wilson took steps toward him and made a move to start undressing him. House stopped him with a hand around his wrist. "I'll do it. Get in bed."

His movements were anything but sexy, with his leg making him awkward, but he undressed, making himself vulnerable. But as quickly as he undressed he got into bed, throwing a sheet over his legs and waist. He made a move toward Wilson, but was met with a hand against his chest.

"I want to look at you." He started to pull at the sheet, knowing House's insecurities about his scar. House allowed him to continue. With slow movements, the sheet was removed and he began his perusal.

His hands roamed the skin of his hair-covered chest and abdomen, his mouth following, kissing and licking, all eliciting hisses and moans from his partner. When he got to the sensitive skin just below his waist, hips bucked against him. His hands roamed lower, not surprised to find that even though obviously turned on, his lover wasn't hard yet.

As if he was reading the younger man's mind, "It's the Vicodin, not you."

Without looking up, "I'm well aware of the side effects. I'll take care of it." His next move shocked both of them. Taking House's cock in his hand, he stroked it, passion pushing him as House writhed under his touch. Hands clutched fistfuls of sheets and moans got louder as Wilson felt the reaction in his hand. The shout of his name as he took the cock into his mouth nearly gave him an orgasm. With his tongue lapping and lips tightening, he scraped his teeth just enough over the shaft in his mouth, feeling it turn harder and harder with every stroke.

The moans turned to yells and gasps and he felt the pulsing begin in his mouth. Knowing he had to pull away before he pushed him over the edge, he dragged his body up his partners, ever careful of his leg. When their eyes met, deep chocolate meeting ocean blue, House finally spoke with ragged breaths. "You're amazing."

Wilson thrust his hips in response ad attacked House's mouth with his own. Their bodies jerked against each other causing a thin sheen of sweat to cover them. Passion heightened until Wilson couldn't take it any longer. "I want you."

The words drove House crazy, his erection pulsed. "What do you want?"

He was panting. "I've never done this."

"Me neither. What do you want?" Wilson struggled, wanting to feel House inside him and wanting to take him all at the same time. The decision was made for him with his partner's next plea. "Jimmy, take me." He nodded slightly, his mind whirring with passion as House reached toward the nightstand. He pushed a bottle of lube at him saying, "Here."

Wilson backed up, coating himself in lube while House propped a pillow under his back. He moved into the position he knew he needed to be in. "Ready?"

"Slow."

As instructed, he slowly pushed into his lover with short thrusts, watching the pain on his face. He stroked his partner's hard cock as his thrusts went deeper and deeper, trying to distract him from the pain. He knew it was working when House pleaded, "Jimmy, take me!" In his next thrust, he buried himself in his lover. He stilled, reveling in the feeling, how tight it was, feeling complete and forcing himself not to give in to his orgasm quite yet.

When he started moving, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out long, with each thrust of his hips he matched it with a stroke of his hand. Just when he thought he couldn't control it any longer, the begging started. "Jimmy, please." Loving hearing the words he held out. He watched his lover's face, coated in sweat, as it tossed from side to side on the pillow while he uttered pleas for completion.

When the torture was too much for him to handle, he quickened their pace. It only took seconds for the pulsing to come in waves, warm liquid spilled onto his hand, shouts of his name came and his own orgasm overtook him.

"I love you, Greg."

"I love you too, Jimmy."


End file.
